Burning September (29 page)

“Seriously.  You think I want that piece of junk?”

I shouldered it by its weathered strap, fingering the strings.  “You didn’t have to do that.  Thank you.”

He grunted at the ground, which I took as a gracious acceptance of my gratitude. 

JULY

Most people took refuge inside as the July heat soared to temperatures well past one hundred degrees.  Even Nicholas refused to leave the condo, preferring to follow me around, bobbing by my ankles as I slowly and meticulously cleaned the place, everything but Caroline’s room. 

I’d been at it for two hours by the time I finally took a break and checked my phone. 

Are you going to be home around lunch?
A text from Kyle read. 
There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. 

It may have been a wordier, beating around the bush
we need to talk
, but the general idea came through loud and clear.  I sent back an
I’ll be home
and flopped onto the sofa.  Nicholas followed suit, spinning in nomadic circles, until settling in beside me.  I stroked his head, staring off into space.

I’d never been broken up with before, but judging by that text, chances were I was about to find out firsthand what it was like. 

The optimistic part of me argued that the last time he’d sent me a text of that nature, the topic had been Caroline-related.  Maybe the doctors at Breakthrough had decided to release her.  What could they possibly diagnose her with?  Sociopaths could lie their way through any patient interview. 

My only consolation was I wouldn’t have to wait too long to figure out what had happened.  It was already past noon. 

***

I quickly realized a breakup wasn’t likely.  I didn’t think he’d kiss me in the foyer of my condo if that were the case, but he still looked a little too serious for my liking. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Let’s sit.”  He dug through his briefcase as he followed me to the couch and unearthed a slim file.  “Can you tell me the story of what happened to your father again?”

“My father?”  I tucked my legs beneath me.  “What’s he got to do with anything?”

“Just tell me what happened.” 

“Um,” I started eloquently, trying to remember the details.  “Well, he was an alcoholic.  He drank all day, every day, and I guess the years of alcohol abuse pickled his liver, gave him a heart attack.  I wasn’t around when it happened.  I only know what Caroline told me.  What does he have to do with anything?”

He sighed, his jaw tensing into a hard line.  “Well, you know the trial’s set for September.”

“Yeah.”

“So, to be thorough I’ve been pulling any record I can on your family.  I don’t want any surprises.  Most of it isn’t pertinent, but I wanted to read through it anyway.  You never know what might be important.”  He heaved a sigh, cracking open the file.  “I pulled your father’s death certificate and was a little surprised by the findings.  I remember you telling me it was a heart attack, but that wasn’t listed as his cause of death.  Then I pulled the autopsy report.  He died from a fall.”

“Okay.”  I shrugged.  “Maybe he fell during his heart attack.” 

He bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze steady as he shook his head.  “That isn’t what happened.  There was no mention of a heart attack.  I have the photos the coroner’s office took.  He fell down the stairs at his auto body shop.”

I felt my forehead crinkle.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  Do you have the photos on you?”

“They’re pretty gruesome.  You don’t want to see him like that.”

“Kyle, I’ve seen him piss himself and run into walls, fall off beds and couches.  He was a drunk.  It’s not like any picture will ruin my lovely memories of him.  The only memories I have of him are bad.”

He didn’t move.  Not until I stuck my hand out and shook it.  He flipped through the papers in the file, selected one, and handed it over.

The body looked like a broken doll, limbs splayed improbably, one hand bent in on itself.  A halo of blood pooled around the head, staining his hair, the navy blue jumpsuit he wore, the concrete beneath him.  White bone and gray matter glittered through a deep crack to his skull. 

I felt Kyle’s eyes singe holes through my skin as I stared blankly at the image of my father, some guy who may as well have been a stranger.  What was he really, when you came right down to it?  Just some drunk who stumbled into my house every night.  I couldn’t remember him ever saying more than a few words at a time to me. 

I let the photo flutter into his lap.  “I’m sure she told me it was a heart attack because she wanted to protect me.  Thought I was too young to hear the truth, or something.  It’s a pretty graphic mental image.”

He put his hand on my thigh, averting his eyes for a moment.  “Kat.  You know that’s ridiculous.”

“No I don’t.”

“Heart attack, fall, what’s the difference?  Dead is dead.  It’s not like anyone would show you photos of his body, you were only ten years old.  There was nothing to protect you from.  She lied to you about it.  Which is worrying.”

“Well she had to have had a good reason for lying.”

“Yeah,” he said, giving me a long, unblinking look.  “I’m sure she had a good reason.”

I pushed his hand off and moved back on the sofa so my whole body faced him.  “I know what you’re insinuating, and you’re wrong.”

“There’s only one reason people lie about insignificant things.  Because they’ve got something to hide.”  I hated that look on his face, a mixture of sympathy and surprise. 
My poor, delusional girlfriend,
that look screamed. 
But what else can you expect from a little girl?

“Do you know how much his death fucked up her life?  He was a lousy drunk, but at least he had an income.  Do you even realize how hard she had to work, how much slack she had to pick up, because he died?  If he lived, she wouldn’t have had to bust her ass working a million jobs to take care of me.  She would have gained nothing by pushing him down those stairs, he didn’t have life insurance or anything.  You just hate her, so you’re looking for anything to show me that might make me hate her, too.”

I would have preferred anger compared to the look of resigned pity he wore.  “I don’t hate her.  I think she’s dangerous because she’s killed two people and is likely a complete sociopath.  People like her don’t stop just like that.”  He snapped his fingers.  “But I don’t hate her.  And I’m not telling you this to drive an even bigger wedge between the two of you.  I’m telling you because I love you, and I think if the tables were turned, I’d want to know.”  He ignored my glare and barreled on.  “You’re not looking at this the right way.  She gained sole control over you after his death.  By all accounts, he was a worthless lush, and I could see why she’d want him out of the picture.  Nobody would ever accuse him of being a good role model.  Maybe it was her twisted way of protecting you.”

Suddenly it didn’t matter how angry I had been with Caroline.  None of that mattered, she was still my sister, my blood, the only familial link I had left in the world, and he was trying to hack at that bond.  She wasn’t perfect, she had flaws, but so what?  That didn’t mean she’d killed her own father.  She wasn’t dangerous, the only person she’d been a danger to had been dead for almost a year. 

Kyle had no family, not even one tenuous tie left.  Maybe he didn’t understand the magnitude of what he was saying, or maybe he didn’t care.  She wasn’t even here to defend herself from the accusation, she could have had a good reason for telling me a different story.  A heart attack was much less gruesome than a fall; maybe she didn’t want to plant any horrible images in my head, I was only ten years old when it happened, for God’s sake.  If he loved me like he claimed, he would have considered all that before marching into my place and dropping this horrible bomb out of nowhere. 

I stood up on shaky legs.  “Go to hell, Kyle.  Take your stupid file with you.”

“Kat—”

“No, don’t
Kat
me.  Just go.”

I looked at the floor so I didn’t have to watch him leave, but it wasn’t the carpet I was seeing.  The only image I saw was of that one breakup of Caroline’s, when she’d walked away without looking back, the sun lighting her gauzy dress on fire.

***

To Kat, on your eighteenth birthday.

I love you so much, Kitty, and you’re the best friend I could have ever asked for.  I’m so proud of you every day.  Nobody makes me laugh or think quite as much as you do.  You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m so lucky I’ve been able to watch you grow up. 

I remember when you were born, you know.  Every single detail.  You had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen, and you had this perfect little pink baby smell.  I thought you’d grow up to be a ballerina; your legs were always pedaling the air.  You had the cutest little gummy smile.  I was almost sad when you finally got your baby teeth.  I was the only one around when you took your first steps—just two, then you looked at me like I was crazy when I gave you a big round of applause.  Your first full sentence was
Sissy gimme juice
.  Very imperious for such a little thing.  You always knew what you wanted.

I’d always wanted a sister, but I never thought it would happen, since it’s not like Mom and Dad got along splendidly.  Even at eight years old, I had a feeling your parents had to at least like each other to have a baby, so I’d just about given up hope when Mom told me you were in her stomach.

I know all that’s happened since hasn’t been ideal.  It would be nice if we could pick and choose our family, and if that were possible, just know I’d choose you every time, even if it meant having a suicidal mother and a drunk idiot for a father.  You’re going to do tons of great things in your life, and I’m so thankful I get watch as you do them.

I can’t wait to see you when I get home tonight.  Call me during my lunch hour, I want to say a more formal happy birthday.

Love,

Caroline.      

I blinked back hot tears, refusing to believe the woman who wrote me this letter was capable of murdering not one, but two people.  She wouldn’t have complicated both of our young lives by pushing our father down a flight of stairs.  She could be impulsive and spontaneous on occasion, sure, but she was rarely reckless, and certainly never when it came to me.  She weighed most decisions carefully, used Pro/Con lists, she’d always been methodical.  If she wanted our father out of the picture, she only needed to wait.  He couldn’t have had more than a few years in the bank, at best.  He was ripe for a drunken fall down the stairs, an exploded heart, an alcohol-fueled lethal car accident. 

I closed my eyes and the letter, which had grown soft and ragged at the creases through many rereads, and tried to remember exactly how she’d explained his death to me that long-ago afternoon when I was ten.  She’d knelt down on the floor while I sat on the couch, put both her hands on my knees as she looked into my eyes.
Do you know why all these people are here?

Predictably, I’d had no idea, though the grave set of her features had me thinking it could be nothing good.
Something bad happened to our father, Kitty.  He’s not going to be coming back home.
 
His heart stopped working, and he died.  Do you know what a heart attack is?
  And then she’d explained that alcohol, especially in the amounts he drank, could seriously damage a person’s body, and that’s what had happened to him. 

She’d elaborated later, years after, and I’d learned what the terms
pickled liver
and
clogged arteries
meant. 

I didn’t want to believe Kyle’s claim, but I had to admit that the woman I thought would never lie to me had, and quite freely and frequently. Blatant lies, lies of omission, glossed-over half-truths—she’d done it all without qualms of any kind.  Would it really be that much of a betrayal to ask her point-blank? 

***

I’d ignored Kyle’s calls for three days and eventually they’d petered off, rendering me equal parts relieved and upset.  I didn’t know how I felt about anything by the time I’d decided to pay Caroline a visit. 

An aide delivered her to the lobby, where I stood alone, arms crossed and heart pounding. 

“Can we talk in her room?” I asked him, without sparing Caroline a look.  I couldn’t chance it yet, all she’d have to do is smile and I might forget how mad I was, I might forget everything except the fact that she was the only person in the world who’d ever loved me unconditionally. 

“You gotta keep her door open at all times.”

“That’s fine.” It would be better than staging a hoarse, whispered argument in the lobby. 

Caroline kept pace with me as we followed the aide, winding our way through the rec room and into a hallway. I kept my eyes on my feet, knowing her gaze was darting all over me. 

“Home sweet home,” she said, once we were finally alone, sinking onto her bed.  “Are you going to stare at the floor the whole time?”

Our eyes finally met, and I was sure the look I wore mirrored hers.  Guarded and curious.  It dawned on me then that I’d never looked at her this way, not once in all my life.  I’d been angry with her plenty of times, especially recently, but I’d never been apprehensive, with one toe over the border of scared.